


Our Fate Like a Wisp of Smoke

by Boundlessmignonette



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Cuddles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Sexual Content, Smoking, Snuggling, Stupid boyfriends, and Enjolras offers some comfort, grantaire ponders many things, in which grantaire cannot sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boundlessmignonette/pseuds/Boundlessmignonette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Grantaire wondered if that would be their group, doing all that they could,  yet still destined to be as a wisp of smoke, floating away into oblivion, cast away and forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Fate Like a Wisp of Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been working on this tidbit for a while now, but only now decided to take the time to post it. Dedicated to all of the sweet people who put up with my ranting and who ask for me to write things. Also dedicated to [feuillybahorel](http://feuillybahorel.tumblr.com/) and [terroroflondon](http://terroroflondon.tumblr.com/) because they're both super sweet and could use a little lovin'. Enjoy!

While it may have seemed to all of those that knew Grantaire personally that he slept a lot throughout the day, it was actually the complete opposite. It should be of no surprise, really, what with the dark shadows consistently under his eyes, or the yawns that always seemed to escape him during the meetings.

The man sometimes went through horrid bouts of insomnia, in which he would toss and turn restlessly all throughout night, trying desperately to silence the maddening thoughts running through his head. He could hardly ever stop thinking, to the point where it prevented him from sleeping properly, and although none had been witness to this, it has made him weep bitterly upon several occasions. He wasn't a man without emotions, after all; just didn't care to show them in the company of others. Lately, these episodes had been happening a lot more than he would ever care to admit.

This night was not as such, however. 

Grantaire was, as is already known, a man unhesitant to indulge in a drink or two. That night, however, sitting nestled in between the other occupants of the Musain, kept warm from the bodies and jovial spirits alike, he did not feel compelled to do more than sip on a single glass of merlot. For once in what had been a long while, Grantaire felt somewhat content to sit between Jehan and Bahorel, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the table as he let the soothing sound of the conversations around him become nothing but a hum, melting together and fading into the background. 

Though he never said it aloud, the Amis were the only ones with whom Grantaire felt as if he actually belonged, even if he did have his days in which he felt like a stranger. Their company, their passions; it felt like home, the one place he could cling to when all else had failed him. 

A small smile barely turned up the corner of his lips as he witnessed Enjolras and Combeferre in the throes of an argument, no doubt something relating to the series of taxes the King had decided to recently place upon the purchase of bread. He could see clearly that the man was angered , and rightfully so. Food in general around the time was fairly expensive, and raising the price through taxes not only furthered the prevention of the poor and the homeless from receiving proper means of nourishment, but also (unsurprisingly, Grantaire had thought to himself ) once more gave power to the wealthy. They were the ones that could still comfortably afford to purchase fine wines and baked goods, among other indulgences. It was this fact alone that angered Enjolras so much, and Grantaire knew that. But he also knew that there was nothing that could be done about that part; such were the mannerisms of the rich and the powerful, and that was something he was certain would never change. With money comes power, and with human nature comes greed. When you combine the two factors together, it results in a large percentage of the people that made up the First and Second estates.

Grantaire grimaced, thinking, 'What an unfortunate set of circumstances we are given.' He had always thought that if he were to have been born wealthy, he would not stand for a single mouth left unfed, a single child left unclothed, no man without shelter and no woman left to her own devices, to be ridiculed for things that society was to blame. Grantaire felt an uncontrollable sense of hope swell inside of him, a hope that one day society would change, or at the very least make the beginning pefforts toward it. These men, whom he felt unworthy to call his friends, used their words and ideas and philosophies to paint the image of a world so bright, so genuine, that its colors shone more brightly in his mind than anything he could ever hope to create using his brushes. And that hope remained inside of Grantaire, buried so deeply within him that one would have had to peer ridiculously close to even tell it was there at all. 

In many ways, Grantaire let people think him the cynic, let them think that all he cared for was the bottle in his hand and the burn at the back of his throat. All they saw was the facade, never getting any farther, simply because he would not allow it. He was entirely too afraid, not of their thoughts or actions, but of being disappointed once more. There had at once been a time where allowed himself to hope, to dream, but after being let down so many times he feared the same results, and so tried fervently to bury the feelings.

Grantaire still had hopes, of course. He was only human. However, he took much care into not letting them show. 

Figuring it pointless to enter the conversation this late, Grantaire simply leaned back in his seat, merely observing the debacle now instead of putting in his two cents or 'playing devils advocate' as the others had grown accustomed to him doing. 

When the hour had become late and the sky had become dark, the group was formally dismissed. After shutting all of the lanterns and blowing out every candle, everyone gathered their things and one by one filed out of the door. Grantaire hesitated, unsure if he wanted to retire to his lodgings yet. Deciding against it, he announced to what he thought a mostly empty room that he was departing to the roof. He'd not seen Enjolras in the corner, concerned eyes training after him as he climbed the small set of stairs leading to the exit. 

Once there, he settled himself on the floor, arranging the paper and charcoal in his lap. Sighing, he took out a cigarette, using a small match from one of the matches he kept in his pocket to light it. Bringing it to his lips, he took a deep drag and held it in his lungs for a minute before exhaling, watching the way the smoke left his lips to disperse in swirls against the blackened night sky. Sometimes Grantaire wondered if that would be their group, doing all that they could, yet still destined to be as a wisp of smoke, floating away into oblivion, cast away and forgotten. His eyes glazed over at the thought of his companions failing; they had come so far, fought so hard. Why then, in the end, should it be all for naught? 

His sketchbook and charcoal lay off to the side, receiving no attention that night.

Grantaire sat there for a long while, staring at the shingles near his feet, committing the texture to his memory and wondering how it would feel to drag his fingers across them, fingers then trailing off to caress the earth, the grass, the sky, and pale skin so soft he was convinced it might vanish. It was not until the frost bit into his skin that he stood up, stubbing his cigarette with the hell of his shoe before retreating back into the building.

He eventually made to retire to his lodgings, as much as he wished against it. The walk back was pleasant enough, nothing but the chirping of crickets and the low buzz of energy to accompany him. The stars burned bright overhead, twinkling with the promise of life from billions of miles away. How he longed to float up there, to sprout wings and drift among the stars, to shine and guide others that felt about as lost as he did now along this darkened path. For now, he left to the dust swarming his feet with each step. 

As he neared his small home, he halted, hearing movement from somewhere nearby. Cautiously, he to the back of his waistcoat, where on the inside he has sewn a small pocket. There, he kept a small blade, in case he should ever be robbed or assaulted. Slipping it carefully into the sleeve of his shirt, he proceeded forward with careful steps, eyes surveying the area for any potential threats. As far as he could see, there was no assailant nearby... 

"Grantaire?" 

Alarmed, Grantaire turned sharply towards the direction of his door, blade wielded in his palm. However, he halted, adrenaline fading out to leave a confused buzz in its wake. 

"..Enjolras??" 

This was certainly the last person Grantaire had expected to see sitting at his front door at what must have been near two in the morning. 

Puzzled, Enjolras regarded the weapon still in his palm. "Is that a blade, Grantaire? God, do you take me for a mugger? Where do you even keep that thing? It's certainly the first time I've seen you with it." 

Gesturing nonchalantly, Grantaire slipped the dagger back into place. "It's nothing to be concerned about, really. Just a precaution! Around here, you can never be quite too secured." 

Ignoring the mixture of concern and disapproval on Enjolras' face, he stepped forward and swung the front door open carelessly, stepping back to allow his guest room to enter. 

"Why have you no lock on your door, Grantaire? If this area is as 'dangerous' as you make it out to be, you should be using much more precaution!"

Smiling, Grantaire dismisses the worry, instead taking his companion by the hand and taking him inside. "Don't worry, friend! I have faired well enough for this long; one more night will make no such difference." 

Enjolras peered around curiously as Grantaire lit a few candles. The room was modest, almost bare, containing none but a small table to one corner, a rickety shelf in the next, a small wardrobe case, a small area for preparing meals, and a bed to the furthest corner. A few books sat upon the table, a few pieces of parchment with neat scrawl placed beside them. The shelve itself held many books, along with a few brushes and jars full of what appeared to be paint. Small as it was, Enjolras couldn't help but feel that it was somehow fitting to Grantaire. Not to say it was the condition of the place that inspire this, no. Merely the contents of it; it was comforting, smelling of wood, rose, old books and faintly of wine. It was no longer hard to see how Grantaire often arrived upon meetings smelling like this. 

While Enjolras contemplated, Grantaire shuffled his few belongings around as best as he could, feeling the place much too messy (even though this was usually the state it remained in anyway.)  
Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, Enjolras, what brings you to my home this evening?" 

Shuffling a bit awkwardly, Enjolras responded. "I noticed that you were quieter than usual tonight. I was wondering if you were alright." 

Surprised, Grantaire picked at the edges of his sleeves nervously, as was his habit when caught off guard. "Was I? I didn't seem to have noticed. I apologize for it, though I thought the silence might prove to be nice for once, instead of me blathering on in the background as per custom." 

Seeing through his blunt attempt at negativity directed toward himself, Enjolras made a face. "Blathering? While your attitude may sometimes upset me, Grantaire, I can assure you that you make perfect sense, and that your speaking does not ever bother me." Gesturing for Grantaire to sit, he continued. "Your insight is always helpful! To be honest, it lets me know if I'm going about something the wrong way. Besides that, you are an intelligent man! It is wondrous to hear you speak, no matter the subject or lament." 

Before Grantaire could speak a word , Enjolras spoke once more. "I, um, also happened to notice just how very tired you've looked lately, mon ami. I mean no rudeness by the statement. Only concern. Have you been sleeping properly as of late?" 

It was Grantaire's turn to look shocked, surprised that anyone had noticed his fatigue, or the looming shadows under his eyes. An emotion unfamiliar to him swelled in his chest. He supposed it might have been something akin to appreciation, hope, at the newfound concern. Shaking his head, a small smile curved his lips, and he stared kindly and enjolras. 

"Truthfully, I have not been. I don't know what possesses me to stay up for hours on end. There is no reason at all, really! None other then that I cannot stop my thoughts from clouding my mind." Pausing, he drew a shuddering breath, becoming surprisingly emotional on the subject. "Many nights I am so desperate for them to stop, these thoughts. So I read, or paint, or write. Hell, there are times where I even rant to myself, in this lone little place, just in an effort to wear myself out. Other times, I drown myself in wine, hoping that it will take me to a place where I need not worry about the thoughts at all!" Swallowing thickly, he looks up at Enjolras, eyes full of unshed tears. "I apologize, Enjolras. I didn't mean to keep you so long with my babbling. I just-" He cut off with a squeak as Enjolras stepped forward to gather him in his arms, embracing him warmly. With Enjolras being tall, Grantaire came up to his chest area, and so rested his head on his shoulder after taking a moment to relax into the embrace. 

Placing his cheek atop Grantaire's head, Enjolras whispered to him. "You should have asked for help, Grantaire. You know that we, that I, care very much for you." 

Chuckling, Grantaire lifted his arms to wrap them around Enjorlas' back. "Thank you. While there is no permanent solution to the problem, I suppose that having you here like this is a big help all on its own." 

By this time, the tears that he had tried so hard to hold in flowed freely down his cheeks, and for a moment he feared Enjolras was spite his weakness and leave him be. Enjolras did naught but hold him tighter. 

When the tears lessened, still not stopping completely, Enjolras eased both of them out of their shoes and coats. Placing them by the doorstep, he then guided both of them to lay on Grantaire's bed, with him cradling Grantaire to his chest and smoothing his hand over the mass of curls atop his head. After a long while spent in silence, Grantaire lifted his head, resting his chin on Enjolras' chest and gazing up at him. "Thank you," he whispered, so softly that he could feel the tickle of breath on his neck.  
Slowly, Enjolras inches down a bit, gently cupping Grantaire's cheek and pressing a chaste kiss upon his lips. Pulling back, he searched Grantaire's face for any sign of discomfort. He interrupted by Grantaire pulling him close, closing the distance between them once more. 

Sighing, Enjolras flipped them over so that Grantaire was on his back, arms locked around Enjolras' neck in an attempt to keep him there. Pulling back, Enjolras moved towards Grantaire's neck, placing feathery kisses in the juncture between shoulder and neck, listening to the breathy noises Grantaire emitted. It was after a particularly loud moan that Grantaire grabbed Enjolras rather roughly and smashes their lips back together, tangling his hand in blonde hair. Hands flew, fumbling with buttons and buckles, articles of clothing being fling madly across the room until it had all been discarded, leaving the two naked upon the mattress. 

Trailing his fingers slowly down Grantaire's stomach, Enjolras reached just between his thighs, reveling in the way Grantaire threw his head back with a gasp that made something in his chest tighten at the sight. Swooping down to rest his head near the others ear, he asked, "Are you alright with this, dear?" Looking up at him, all Grantaire could do was hum his approval, tugging at the sheets in his grasps. Satisfied, Enjolras continued with lazy strokes, moving his other hand lower to part Grantaire's legs gently, softly caressing the space where groin met thigh, eliciting a small shudder at the sensation. 

Stopping momentarily, he turned to Grantaire, inquiring about the whereabouts of any oils he might have. Sitting up, Grantaire reached over to the case in the corner, shifting until he could grasp one small jar from one of the shelves, handing it over to Enjolras. Opening it, he took a small sniff, finding it to smell pleasantly of something akin to lavender. Thanking him, he dipped two fingers in, making sure to coat them liberally with the oil before setting it off to the side once more. 

Leaning down to kiss him, Enjolras slowly slipped one finger inside of Grantaire, waiting a while for the other to adjust to the sensation before beginning to move in and out. Grantaire groaned, wriggling around and biting at his bottom lip and bringing his hand to his mouth in an effort to keep quiet. Enjolras took that hand and kissed it, assuring him that there was nothing wrong with annunciating the way he felt. Once he felt Grantaire relax more, he pushed in a second finger, spreading his fingers gently so as to stretch him open. His fingers bumped into a small bundle, and Grantaire's body jerked, his mouth falling open in a soft cry. Smiling, Enjolras angled his fingers, aiming for his prostate. 

After a few minutes Grantaire was a trembling mess, thrashing around and begging Enjolras for more. Giving Grantaire's cock a few lazy strokes, he let his fingers slip out, reaching over to retrieve the pot of oil once more. Slicking his own member with the oil, he put the jar back to the side before kissing Grantaire and parting his legs. Positioning himself, he slowly pushed in, locking eyes with Grantaire to make sure he wasn't inflicting any pain. Once he was sure the other was comfortable, he began to move, building up a lazy rythm. 

Moaning, Grantaire lifted his hips and hooked his legs around Enjolras' waist, lifting himself in time with the man's thrusts. Leaning forward, he nipped gently along Enjolras' collarbone, leaving occasional marks and whispering encouragements in his ear. Reaching between them, Enjolras took hold of Grantaire's own arousal, hand sliding up and down in firm strokes that drive Grantaire wild. Gentle nips turned into harder bites, nails scraping lightly along his back and the base of his neck. Sweat dripped down both of their bodies, breath mingling together between them. The hand that wasn't occupied came up to grasp at Grantaire's own, and with cries of the others name they came undone in each others arms. 

They lay back down together, basking in the afterglow of their climax. For Enjolras, he couldn't recall a time where he'd ever felt quite so warm, and for Grantaire, he couldn't recall a time where he'd ever felt quite so at home. 

Sighing, Grantaire rolled over to face Enjolras, giving him a dazzling, albeit tired, smile that Enjolras could swear was perhaps the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen (and, when asked later on, would respond that it would be the most beautiful thing he would ever see.) Nuzzling into his neck and drawing lazy patterns along his chest with his finger, he locked his other hand with Enjolras' and whispered to him. "You know, it's been a long time since I've felt anything quite like this." A pause, a curve of soft lips and an upturn of blue eyes. "Thank you, Enjolras." He lays his head back down on his chest. "I love you." 

Ecstatic, Enjolras kisses Grantaire on top of his head, holding him impossibly closer and whispering, "I love you, too." 

In the grand scheme of things, it would seem as if the lives of the two men were but wisps of smoke in the wind, intertwining only to fade away in the end. But if it meant that the journey would be as such, then neither two minded one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to stop by and say hi on [tumblr](http://boundlessmignonette.tumblr.com/) ! c:


End file.
